


The Prophecy of the Apocalypse That Wasn't

by unusquisque



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Gen Work, Multi, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-20 06:30:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20223364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unusquisque/pseuds/unusquisque
Summary: Simon (The herald of the apocalypse) had been standing by the roadside since he’d popped out of the end of Eternity. That was the only way to describe what he’d seen. He had vague impressions - first of a theme park he’d been to as a boy, then of the sea, then of something indescribable. He stared into the face of a terrible truth (There are other worlds than these) and it whispered in the wind and he was gone...and then back.Or, the International Express man has an angelic encounter. Gabriel has a lot of feelings. It's revealed that God is taking a break to finish her reading. In  the wake of the Apocalypse that wasn't however, God comes to a decision regarding her Angels and Demons.(More tags to come. See end of chapters for notes)





	1. Chapter 1

(SHE who is called I AM sits in the garden, the one garden. Only this time the garden is in a shining city that stands empty and while there is regret there is also ...interest. Perhaps that there is something more to the plan that SHE has conducted and that her games and those of her compatriots across all the dimensions might come to a satisfying conclusion. It must conclude, SHE thinks. Good stories cannot last forever. They become stagnant, like brakish water. She opens her book (Neil Gaiman: Stardust). Her book is from the Keystone world that all stories come from. Their God (who remains distant even to her mind) gifted them with no powers or abilities or supernatural leanings. Instead their gift was the written word and the eloquence to produce it and with IT worlds.

Her world however was in slight disarray. It’s end should have come 30 minutes ago and instead was slowly plugging back to life. It stirred like a freight train, slogging forward slowly picking up steam. Slowly. Far too slowly for anyone to see. She’d only meant to take a vacation. She’d left her archangels in charge it should have been easy. 

Sigh. Then again. There was more at work here.

It was Adam’s doing. If she had a sense of irony she would have gone to the keystone world and congratulated the author on a splendid metaphor. Adam, the first to break from the Garden, her first and perhaps her best and worst. It was a perfect metaphor for the power of mankind when used properly. The ability to deliver a gentle message without berating each other for it. The ability to recognize that they were made in her image.

This is what SHE knows. They are made in her image and while they lack the fortitude and power and skill of her first angelic creations they have her ability to shape reality to their will when desired from the smallest ruined day to the largest destroyed planet. They had to be tested, to be molded - without that she and her compatriots would have brought about a plague upon the whole of creation that was their domain forever into eternity. Their power was limitless. Adam’s power was limitless.

Reality began to pick up faster, wheels chugging. In her mind’s eye she saw Azazel-that-was now known as Beelzebub and Gabriel - poor perpetually annoyed Gabriel arguing with one another. Balance - Crowley and Aziraphaele had brought balance to a system that would make the ending easier. It would break their hearts but it had to be done. How did the song go? 

Every new beginning is some other beginning’s end…

Speaking of endings. Death had returned to his domain and his coworker - the woman - was unavailable in a garden of superheroics and strange creatures. The world grew brighter in the wake of Adam’s power - milliseconds to humans and eternity to Angels and those who stood guard over them. It was a small thing and yet-

She sent a command to Gabriel, Lord of Hosts, and exhaled. The garden bloomed. Creation brightened. God went back to Her book.)

\---

“I think that we oughtzz to-” Beelzebub had been detailing a particularly intriguing plan to Gabriel who - despite the repulsion of being in the demon’s presence and the absolute anger that always managed to surface at seeing someone who was essentially family once upon a time - had been listening stopped and held up a hand.

A tinkling, the sound of a bell, the knowledge he had to be somewhere else. She was absent far more then She was with them so when she gave a command his heart welled in his chest. It was his duty and purpose. Amen. Beelzebub had the distinctly uncomfortable pleasure of seeing the Archangel genuinely smile before stepping backward.

“To be continued.” he tossed them a nod before popping out of existence and back into existence on a road beside - a postal truck.

\---

Simon (The herald of the apocalypse) had been standing by the roadside since he’d popped out of the end of Eternity. That was the only way to describe what he’d seen. He had vague impressions - first of a theme park he’d been to as a boy, then of the sea, then of something indescribable. He stared into the face of a terrible truth (There are other worlds than these) and it whispered in the wind and he was gone...and then back.

Staring at his rotted body.

It hadn’t been rotting long - at least he didn’t think it had. The figure had shriveled, curled up on itself slightly. Something (or someone) had dragged it to the side of the road. He approached it cautiously, seeing his face and hair and chunks taken out of his cheeks and chin and lips. Somehow everything that had happened made it less horrific. Mortality was something everyone faced. Still, rotted eyes. Birds chewing at his skin.

Ah. Well.

“To be expected I suppose.” He paused and studied the corpse again. He tried to turn it over with his shoe and realized to his dismay that he couldn’t. He was still incorpreal and something had pulled him from the embrace of death to stare at his corpse…

“Good God. Am I supposed to haunt this bloody road?!” That seemed decidedly unfair, “Oi! Death! Get your ass back here I want to go back to where I felt nothing! I don’t want to be a bloody ghost! I did what I was supposed to do didn’t I?!” He did. The message had gotten through. Who knew what it meant but it had still gotten through and…

“You did.” 

Simon looked up sharply. A man was standing in the middle of the road, heedless of traffic. He’d come from nowhere to stand in the road. The former human being wanted to warn him to get out of the way but some animal instinct kept him silent. The man was all in gray, dressed very fine, like the people he’d delivered packages to in London. He sounded American (once again like the packages in London) All in gray and all in fine silks and a trench coat that had to have cost thousands of pounds. 

“I couldn’t have done it better myself honestly. I probably should have but there ...okay so there were rules to observe and I have absolutely no fucking idea how this is going to work next time but. You. Did your best. Yay!” He offered two thumbs up and paused, “That’s right right? Thumbs up? Yay?”

There was something familiar about the man despite the American accent. Pacing over to Simon, the postman slid back against the truck and stared at him, eyes wide. 

“...You can see me?”

The gray suited man just stared at him with a condescending look that made the postman bristle. Then the look softened and the American looked almost human before moving past him to climb into the truck and turned back to Simon.

“Where’s the horse?”

Simon, the herald of the apocalypse blinked, “...Sorry? What horse?”

“You’re a postman right? The last time - you’re not on a horse. You’re in a car right? And this-” He threw open the back doors, “...Wow. Packages. Not just mail-mail, packages. Haven’t seen these in years. You must be a really good postman to actually deliver packages.”

Simon wondered if this man was touched in the head like his great aunt glenda, “...Well y’know. That’s the job.”

“Hey now.” The gray man held up a hand, “Packages. These are important.” he picked up one and tossed it aside hearing the tinkling of breaking glass, “...Woops.” 

Simon blinked, “...It’s delivery. I mean s’not hard…” the gray man snapped his fingers and Simon thought more of Aunt Glenda.

The American raised a gloved hand to tsk at him, “Don’t sell yourself short my friend. The art of communication is a holy and noble work. It’s a calling. The formation of knowledge and reason.” The American moved into the back of the truck and Simon, despite everything peered in after him, the gray man talking to himself “...There were once 25,000 languages spoken on earth alone. An untold number in the cosmos. Communication you know? It’s the foundation of civilization.”

Simon climbed into his passenger seat and found the American kneeling over a selection of packages, “...Oi, you shouldn’’t touch those. They belong to-”

“Susan Perkins Westchester, Anne Dowling - Hyde Park, James Pembroke, Surrey?” the man stared at him again, “...England has the strangest names.”

“You got those off the labels.”

The American smiled and this time it was genuine. Despite the strangeness of being stranded on a road with one’s bird eaten corpse, Simon found himself smiling back. The man shook a package and tilted his head to the side as if listening.

“Susan Perkins is getting a birthday check from her grandmother - 50 pounds? I guess that’s a lot. It doesn’t look like fifty pounds but she’ll use it to buy a new sweater and a bunch of books. One of those books will lead to her deciding to become an artist. Eventually she’ll paint the Prime Minister of England. She wouldn’t have but now that the world’s not ending…”

There was something in the man’s features that made Simon step back against the console and stare at him, “How do you-”

“Anne Dowling is getting a letter from her sister in the US - her sister’s husband is leaving her. She’s struggling. Anne will get the letter just in time to call her on the phone and save her life. She’ll fly out to her in less then a week - if you deliver it on time.” He set a package on the shelf, “James Pembroke is getting cookies his mother baked for him. They’ll last, but he’ll want to savor them. Sooner he gets them less likely it is they’ll go bad.”

Ghosts don’t shiver as a rule, but Simon was close to pretending just to get the heebie jeebies out of his incorpreal form, “...I bloody well can’t can I? I’m dead. Cookies and Birthday checks and welfare checks are gonna have to wait. The world ended mate.”

At this the man in gray sighed, “...No it didn’t. Unfortunately. It’s just been put on pause. ‘Scuse me?” He sidled past the ghost without a second thought, “...These trucks. Fascinating. I remember when people delivered news on foot. When people had to wait years for letters from loved ones.” he huffed in awe, “...I should have just - made myself one of these. I wouldn’t have thought of this at all. What’s the word. Cool. but not cold. This would make delivering things easier.” 

The gray man looked distant, “Always kind of broke my heart. It’s my one soft spot. Not that anybody involved in this fucking fiasco gives a shit. “Ha Ha, Gabriel’s the messenger. Gabriel’s the guy with the trumpet. I was. But y’know she needed a break and I uh…” Simon felt the man had revealed too much and the gray man shook his head, “No one gives a shit.”

The gray man paused, “...Can I ask you a question?”

“Seem t’be unable to stop you…”

“Can I sit down?”

Simon looked at the gray man again and gestured to the driver’s side of the truck closest to the cab, “...S’open.”

“Thanks.” The gray man moved past him rudely but stared at the chair and looked back at him like a child before easing himself into the seat and sitting down with a sigh that made Simon think of age, “...Aziraphale caused nothing but trouble. “How come you don’t eat food. How come you don’t read books...ugh. I have two vices. I jog - great idea by the way and it makes you feel great. And. I sit. But that’s something for me you know? Nobody needs to know about it. Most people don’t.” 

Simon slid into the passenger seat, “...Are you okay?”

He may have been a ghost but concern for the gray man was overriding good sense. Glenda would wander off like this. Perhaps he was someone’s rich uncle who had gone insane. Simon could tap out a ghost message to his relatives who would send Maude a nice tip for finding him. The gray man looked at him, tired, practically asleep before he blinked and sat upright.

“I’m fine. I’m just thinking.” He looked away, “About my brother. I don’t like thinking about him. This was kind of supposed to settle the dust between us. You know? World ending. Maybe bury the hatchet.”

“...Bit of a falling out eh?” He knew about things like that. Glenda had a boy called Roger who liked to kick puppies and was probably falling on the other end of the unwell ladder. They’d had to put him in an institution but he kept leaving, drug problems, family problems…

The gray man was staring at him like a confused dog. Simon sat back and the gray man sat up. He appeared to be thinking before he held out his hands, gesturing, “...I’ve got - a mother. I love my mother. I know human beings abandon their parents the moment they hit a certain biological age - but I love my mother. She’s...well. She raised me and a whole bunch of others by herself. My brother was always her favorite.”

Despite the psychosis of his situation, the International Express man nodded, “...Favorites. Kind of a shitty parent if y’ask me. Parents shouldn’t play favorites.”

“Absolutely not.” The gray man’s voice was hard, “She found time to love all of us equally, but my brother...my brother was genuinely special. I loved him. We all loved him, but he was so loved by our mother that he started getting kind of a big head about it you know? Like he wanted to…” He frowned, “It’s hard to explain. Am I making sense?”

“Little bit. Lord knows I’m not going anywhere.”

That made the man chuckle before he held out his hands, gesturing, “My brother and my mother had a fight. And I mean-” he woofed out, “This was a fight. Like the kind of fight family doesn’t come back from. The whole neighborhood ended up taking sides. We all split apart and our mother - well. Mom. Mom was heartbroken. She kept all of us close but it doesn’t change my brother you know? I remember him. He was...funny. He told a lot of really funny jokes. He was really smart. Our mother had projects though and while the rest of us kind of wanted to help her he wanted to do his own thing and she fought with him about it.”

Simon wondered where this was going. He glanced around the truck and then back to his body before coming back to the gray man.

“...Giving us all jobs to do.” 

“Sorry what? Don’t mind me mate. I dozed a bit. Please forgive me.”

“Always.” He gestured carelessly, “You’re always forgiven. It’s really frustrating but honestly the last thing on my mind at this point. We all had to get jobs and I became a sort of...well. Postman-guy. Messenger. Like what you do. I like it you know? I had to move into management but-you probably don’t get it.”

“Well no. I mean I do.” Simon slid into the passenger seat, “I mean I think I do. At least. You’re kinda creeping me out and I know ‘m dead but you seem t’really care and have a very creepy knowledge of what’s going on in people’s packages. But I get that. It’s like bringing people presents. I love giving gifts. When I first started I got t’play Santa.”

This was a favorite memory of his. Simon felt his non-existent eyes grow misty, “...My first run. Christmas! Everybody was exhausted. Worst time of the year for people deliverin’ the mail. Anyway, I was wide eyed and eager. Maude called it my calling dontcha know. So I get these toys and I figure, why not? I go out, rent a red suit, suddenly there’s santa in the drive with parcels. I could have had my own little sleigh and no one would have been the wiser. Turned out the woman who ordered the toys had her husband leave her. Gave the kids a bit of a Merry Christmas eh?”

The gray man was staring at him. It was an unnatural unnerving stare, the kind an animal uses on something when it’s trying to figure out.

“...I once delivered a message on Christmas.” The gray man’s smile was pleased and warm. Simon saw his father’s smile when he was proud of him, Maude’s smile when she told him she loved him. All the joy in the world was in that smile. It made Simon uncomfortable. No one should be that at peace. It was unnatural, life was struggle. It gave people meaning. To be so happy was a strange sort of half life.

(God, Somewhere in a distant garden, looked up at the thought and smiled a knowing smile before nodding and returning to a very intersting chapter.)

“Good news?”

“Best message I ever sent.” the gray suited man murmured, “...It was a...birth announcement. I think you could call it. I was scared as hell.”

“...Give us the details then.” Nothing like talking shop to help him relax, “How’d it go?”

The gray man threw his head back and chuckled, “... Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.” He leaned back and looked emotional, “...She looked so scared. Like the good kind of scared you know? There must be a good kind, because I could tell she was enraptured. It’s all business but I was doing the full bit. Wings and robes and trumpets.” He chuckled, “ We all had to wear robes back then and by the way thank you - so much - as a species for inventing clothes.” He chuckled, “I mean if I have to deliver a message like that again I’ll dig them out but ah...different corporation then what I had back then you know?”

Simon had two thoughts. The first was that wow for a birth announcement that’s incredibly religious and the second thought was That’s incredibly beautiful, “Different...corporation?”

“Form.” The man waved a hand. His foot hit something in the wheel well and he paused, bending down to pick it up. Simon digested this - wondering just who the hell was in his truck and how he could see him when he knew he was dead.

“Oh. Goodness.” The man blinked, “What in heaven is this? Wings? Is this an ...Angel?”

“That-what?” Simon blinked, “...That’s my archangel Gabriel medallion. Maude gave it t’me when I got hired. T’protect me…” he frowned, “Guess it fell t’the floor. Probably why I ended up dead.”

The man burst out laughing, “No. No that is not me. Not by a long shot.”

“Course not. S’Gabriel innit…” he stared and thought about the strange man, his strange family, his sense of loss and his apparent weird fixation on packages.

The gray man stared at him and Simon blinked. He had a sudden impression of age - of time pressed into a creature far beyond his understanding.

“...Ohhhh holy shit-wait. Not holy shit shit can’t be holy-”

“Lots of things are Holy.” The gray man, Gabriel? Murmured, “...Like trying to do your job and getting caught in the crossfire. You were willing to die to deliver that message. That makes you blessed. Gosh - when the end finally comes you’ll be up in the city with all of us! You and Maude eh? I’ll make sure of it.” The gray man slapped him on his shoulder and Simon flinched, “There’s a nice little apartment off the corner square - one of my buildings. I’ve got it all set up, flowers, trees, the whole bit. A nice view of the Garden.”

“The Garden?”

“Oh sure. You’ll all have access to it when it’s over. God’s been saving it. She’ll be thrilled to see you all back.” he was like a child then, “I know she will. I for one can’t wait. We can be friends. Same team and all that right?” He clapped him on the shoulder, “eh?”

“All of us? All 7 billion of us?” Simon frowned, “Awfully crowded garden.”

The gray man, Gabriel - Archangel fucking Gabriel! - stared at him, “...It’s cozy.”

Simon shrugged, “Look, if you’re finished. ‘M somehow apparently supposed t’haunt this roadside. What do you suppose ghosts do on roadsides? Stand here and look creepy?”

“I have no idea.”

Gabriel paused and stared at him. The archangel reached for the piece of paper on the top of the console. Still seemingly fresh, the words “I love you Maude” written in black.

He stared at it. Then back at Simon who pressed his lips together. For Gabriel it was uncomfortable. The only one who could create anything involving life and death, the universe at large, was God herself. When She’d left - taking a vacation of a sort - she’d embued her archangels with dominion and the order to pray to her if they needed something that wasn’t in their purview.

This was in his purview and he sensed her. Her power flowed through him. It was intoxicating. Frightening. Invigorating. Beyond him despite what anyone else thought. 

“...You’ve got one more message to deliver it looks like. And it’s an important one. Not as important as mine of course but...I think you’ll need some time to make sure she gets it straight.”

Outside the decaying corpse began to decay faster - in a nanosecond it was gone, it’s flesh rotted, it’s body nourishing the grass. Play the circle of life by Disney it had all come full circle as the man - the former ghost-felt weight settle about his form. He sank into the seat as the angel handed him the message.

“Good twenty or thirty years ought to do it I think. I mean, I’m not sure - forty? You’re what - 40 years? 80’s a nice round number. Humans can live til 80 now right? It’s not just Lazarus this time around.”

“No yeah. 80 ought t’...be good.” 80 years with Maude? A dream come true, “What just happened?”

“You came back from the dead pal.” Gabriel winked at him, “You’ve got a message to deliver.” The gray man popped out of existence just in time for Simon’s cell phone to begin to ring.

\---

(SHE who is called I AM knew what came next and made herself allowances for the actions of the two teams on the field. It was hard to wait for player three to enter the game but when they did. When mankind could look at her at last and the angels and the demons would stand with them...

She allowed herself to smile as Metatron approached.)

Metatron loved his job. He could bask in her presence and still oversee Gabriel and the others work. She required his utmost attention and he understood more then anyone how much of a break she needed. First losing ...the morning star and then losing her little pet project had taken a toll. Take some time. Read books. It made sense.

“You still want to see Gabriel?”

God raised her head. Short cropped hair framed a careworn face as she leaned back in a common comfortable chair with a stack of books by her side. Dressed in purple and gold and white and all the colors of the world she nodded.  
He’s probably going to be furious.

“He’ll do his duty your holiness.” Metatron snorted, “he is nothing if not...dutiful.”

...More’s the pity.  
\----

All Angels looked the same when they entered the garden. They didn’t get a choice. Gabriel winked back into existence in the Garden and stared at his outstretched white and gold wings before dropping to his knees, wings outstretched in subservience. She rose, setting side her book and putting a hand on his head. He could have appeared before her naked and been content. A meeting with her was an honor. A pleasure. A privilege. He had helped someone and he was now with Her in her glory somehow the sting of Aziraphale’s betrayal vanished in her light. 

Her angel raised his head ever so slightly before lowering it again.

“Are you back-” he stood up and glanced around, staring at his robes and wings. Her glow was fading and this form was embarrassing. He didn’t feel shame at it. More a sense of nakedness mostly because Uriel and Michael should be by his side. It went beyond humanity. Angels were at their formation animals, “Ah-crud. Last time you saw me was what-just after after you came back? With the son and holy ghost I -” He frowned, “Hail Lord God-”

She stared at him as Metatron appeared beside her in a puff of lighting, “Ah. Gabriel.”

“Lord Metatron-” he bit back annoyance. Ugh. Why couldn’t it ever just be her and her creations without her mouthpiece?

“Save your fake subservience.” The Metatron pointed a finger at him, “Michael will need your typical arrogance to get the hosts down from battle stance.” 

“Arrogance-” Gabriel laughed weakly, “I’m not-I’m just doing my job…”

God held up a hand and Metatron stared at Gabriel before bowing to her, “...Right. You have done well in accordance with her will returning the Herald to life. You have not abused the power and faith she trusted in you.” Gabriel looked at her - one of the few privileged to do so - and lowered his head. She nodded at him and smiled that same warm “I’ve seen everything” look he was used to.

Mother. No. The word went beyond Mother. He wished Michael was here to see her. Uriel, even Aziraphale. Their creator had summoned him. They deserved her. Siblings, coworkers, colleagues, they were close.

“Ah.” Metatron shook his head, “Alas, She has further business but she has no doubt that you and Beelzebub will have your respective domains in order on behalf of herself and the fallen.” 

“Right.” Unlike Aziraphale Gabriel knew how to take orders, “Right. Of course. I-” he nodded, “By your command Lord.”

“In fact.” The Metatron swept a hand over the grassy floor and Gabriel’s bare feet, “She would like you to reach out to Beelzebub. Perhaps more communication would aid in the end of things when a second ending is decided.”

“I-” work with a demon. Seriously? Work with a demon? “By your command my lord.” he hesitated, turning to leave. Don’t do this. Don’t. Remember what happened when He did-

“Your Holiness…” mother “ - please come back. I didn’t mean to screw all this up- Aziraphale-” Fury filled him and Metatron and God both stared at him before he calmed himself, “...Work with demons? I know I shouldn’t ask about the plan but Aziraphale - Aziraphale - this is all his fault and I honestly thought if we could accomplish this...he’d-we’d-”

At a loss for words he lowered his head, emotion welling in his corporation to his shame. Outside of his gaze the Metatron sighed before God approached. She brought Gabriel’s head to her level, his body kneeling as she kissed him on his forehead. Gentle. Kind. Firm.

He winked out of the garden, on his knees in the home office to Uriel and Michael helping him up. Straightening, he grimaced.

“...I’m fine. I’m. Fine.” He held up a hand, “...We have work to do.”


	2. INTERLUDE: The Forest Fire (Or the Fall of Heaven as Recorded by Agnes Nutter

\---

Workers of the world united have nothing to lose but their chains. Workers of the world unite!  
-Karl Marx

Difficulties strengthen the mind as labor does the body  
-Seneca

\---

Animals remember forest fires. 

It teaches them to be wary of mankind. If they told stories as human beings did they would tell of that one idiot who set off sparklers during a gender reveal party and burned down half the woods. They would tell of the second who tried to warm themselves and ended up destroying tons of the human’s dwellings. They would tell of human deaths. It teaches them to fear.

Mankind does not fear forest fires as much as they should. No. They fear the fall. Mankind does not remember the fall. Hell, they didn’t know about the fall save for a few desperate angels who snuck down to earth occasionally and got drunk with a few prophets and got a little weepy mostly because - in the early days they didn’t remember. There was only the fall, like a fire. There was only the scars that it left, absent friends at empty tables. 

These mighty and powerful beings, mankind thought. How terrible for them to be so wounded. How pained for them to be without their friends. How noble of them to still serve us. How kind.

Yet the descriptions. Oh the descriptions of the terror and pain of that day. Mankind went home and shivered by their fires. The words of angels and the hosts of the cosmos written upon their soul and they began to wonder - What If.

What if there truly were people asking questions? What if there truly were people who were so different that they could cause such chaos? What if that tribe over there was just as bad as those who rebelled against the creator of...of everything?   
Their gazes became suspicious of their brothers and somehow despite the angels who looked down and wondered “Goodness did we do the right thing” this was allowed to flourish.

The animals tell their children of this. Be wary of men, look to the forest and the woods and those who made them for us. She made man in her image and she is vengeful and despite her perfection sore afraid and hurt, yes profoundly hurt by their betrayal. The humans? They’re too empathetic for their own good and see where it got them. They are scarred by the stories of those on high.

For in the beginning, mice and rabbits and squirrels and dear deer, there was the word, and the word was the “Human project.”  
\---

To imagine the human project, one must first imagine the cosmos and for the sake of this interlude we will go with what Agnes Nutter recorded and imagine a great university campus. She had never been to one but she set it all down in great detail in multiple pages. It took her a week and a half and then she took a week off and ignored a whole slew of prophecies that are lost to time and space. She stared at her neighbors even more suspiciously for days afterwards and kept her daughter close.

So. Imagine a university.

Imagine bright trees (or at least what the angels hoped would be trees), imagine books (a library the likes of which no being can contemplate. The closest man would ever come would be at Alexandria) and imagine the innocence of Angels before the fall taught them caution, wariness, and fear.

God ruled on high, distant and hard at work at her plans, and her children (those who were closest to her called themselves her children which made sense in their mind since they delivered her messages) and her other creations (they did not consider themselves her children since they were not directly in her confidence but still basked in her will and gladly did her bidding). The thing about this university was that despite them applying their own unique skills and perspectives they believed wholeheartedly that this was her will. The questions that were asked always seemed to end with “It’s God’s will” and “In her name”. For many that was enough. More than enough. For others that was...well. How did the University get there? How did they make trees? How did they do all these things?

(Shiver, ye in your houses and dwellings. Burn so that you can escape knowledge - the terrible burden.)

Asking questions was not Aziraphale’s strong suit. The principality trusted and simply talked and prayed and enjoyed being in her light with his comrades and siblings and friends. It was a delight. He was happy to be an angel and he was quite sure if he wasn’t born an angel he would have been happy to be one.

The principality was taking a walk through one of the corridors before stepping out into a courtyard of the likes of which no being can contemplate. They were still working on the star project and the celestial being basked in their glow with a warm and eager look on his face before colliding with an archangel. 

“Ah!-sorry! Sorry sorry sorry…” Scrolls went spilling everywhere and he knelt to pick them up as a familiar being muttered under their breath, “Hello Uriel. How are you?”

“Aziraphale.” Uriel’s annoyance vanished, “ I was thinking about the stars. Aren’t they beautiful? I’ve been writing about them all morning. Details mostly. Raphael and Ramiel have been up there for awhile pinning certain ones into place.” The soon-to-be serious faced angel pointed and smiled starlight at her friend, “Look! That one looks like one of the beings R&D is working on.”

The principality peered upward and blinked, “...It’s...what? I’m sorry I don’t see it.” he smiled nervously and squinted, “An animal in the stars?”

“It’s as playing as the nose on your face beloved. It’s a bear.” Gold eyes brightened, “I can’t wait to see bears. Wolves and bears and all sorts of creatures. She sends the orders down and we make them. Actually-” The angel paused, “you want to see our latest project?”

Aziraphale reflected he’d rather wait for Raphael to come down so he could compliment his work, but Uriel looked positively gleeful and that glee was catchy, “I’d-I’d love to.” Rarely were principalites allowed into R&D. That was where those embued with God’s will worked, “I’ve never been down there. Might be fun.”

(A note on Gender from Agnes: And Angels, tho they take shapes of male and female according to their will are in fact without the male and female mind. Within this text they are referred to according to their whim and will, yet readers must caution themselves against believing in such small minded concepts that physical form shapes immortal soul.)

Before he could wait for Raphael who (he imagined) appeared to almost be done? Uriel grabbed the principality’s hand and dragged him along.

R&D was less science and test tubes that man tried to mimic and more things that could not be wholly understood. Looking around in awe and wonder Aziraphale saw green things and blue things and pink and red and all the colors of the cosmos things that were to be used for the “Human Project”. What drew the eye however was a cluster of angels with multiple wings gathered around something that was moving in a circle. It had four legs Aziraphale discerned and bright eyes and a snout and a tongue and everyone was positively enraptured.

Micheal particularly, “I love him so much! Look at what she’s given us in her glory! Praise be her name!” The archangel who Aziraphale had always found terrifying wrapped their arms around the creature and squeezed it only for the animal to lick at their face. 

“It might be one of our finest works.” A smaller angel of a lesser order was standing by, arms folded behind their back. Aziraphale noted messy wild hair and calm dark eyes, “It’s hard not to want to spend all day playing with it but we’re moving onto insects next. Just waiting on her for a name.” the little virtue shrugged, then grinned with genuine joy, “It’s adorable isn’t it?”

“A name? How about adorable!” Micheal scratched the creature behind an ear and the animal flopped over to its side. The creature made a deep wurf noise and looked around at all of them.

The development angel moved forward, panicked.“You broke it!”

“No I didn’t!” Micheal stepped back, “I didn’t did I? Oh no!” But the creature’s tongue lolled out and it’s tail (a tail!) wagged, “...It seems all right.”

“Maybe-” Aziraphale spoke, “...It wants it’s belly rubbed?” It seemed only natural. The creature displayed it’s stomach, “I might be wrong - remember the cat? That did not like it’s belly rubbed I heard…”

“Still have the cuts to prove it.” The R&D angel murmured. They held up an unblemished hand and chuckled.

Micheal and the others stared at him before Uriel shrugged. Michael, the archangel and leader of heaven’s armies tentatively, cautiously, moved to put their hand on the creature’s stomach and rubbed it up and down.

“Say! It likes it!”

“The Dog likes it.” a lofty voice murmured, “I’ve just come from her and she says to call it a Dog.”

The angels in the room all knelt save for Uriel who was writing it down and Michael who was enraptured with the creature.

“Morningstar.” the group murmured Lucifer’s chosen name as the Seraphim fluttered his wings. Lucifer studied the dog, “...It might be some of her best work I’d say.”

“Dog.” the angels murmured. And the dog knew itself and sat up and began to lick Micheal’s face again before trotting over to the Seraphim and...stepping back.

The creature sniffed and whined, tail between its legs. Micheal rose, “Brother.” The angel smiled a warm smile of greeting, “Dog it is. Though it seems scared of you.”

“It knows a master. Well and good. Humans are to master them and befriend them. They’ll be their constant companion and guide. Their best friend apart from us. That is her will.”

“I’ve got it down.” The R&D angel murmured. Aziraphale stared, confused as he thought he detected the angel looking at the Seraphim with rapt attention, “Dog. I’ve got a boy and a girl and plans for more.” Light shone and the dog wagged its tail and moved away from Lucifer to the R&D angel who bent down to scratch it on it’s head., “...Good boy.”

Wagging it’s tail the dog disappeared into the lab as the group dissapated. Lucifer studied Uriel, then turned his attention Aziraphale“...A principality? Really?”

“Everyone should get to see the dog.” Uriel shrugged, “Gabriel was down here earlier. Wouldn’t leave the poor thing alone. It was almost adorable but now he’s up with the choirs if you’re looking for him.”

The morningstar ignored her and nodded to Aziraphale who felt a particular sinking feeling in his stomach. The stomach was a new thing and he wasn’t sure he liked it, it didn’t seem to serve a purpose beyond making him feel sick at moments like this, “...Morningstar.” he lowered his head respectfully.

Lucifer turned back to Uriel, “Not particularly. Don’t bring principalities down here again.” He smiled condescendingly at Aziraphale, “You understand.” He strode out with confidence and Aziraphale sighed. Always. Always treated like less.

The archangel followed him with their gaze and rolled their eyes, the closest thing one could get to a “prick” that angels could mutter, “...I should go see how R&D is doing with their insects. Are you going to be able to find your way out?”

“Yes I do believe I can.” Aziraphale grinned, “Thank you Uriel. I can’t wait to behold her glory when you write down about the...dog.”

The two smiled at one another and Aziraphale went to find Raphael. Unbeknownst to everyone he felt he could find the angel anywhere.  
\---

Michael had caught the stare between the virtue and the Morningstar. It confirmed rumors that they’d heard among the soldiers. God’s angels were warriors at heart and the soldiers under her command were loyal to a fault. Michael had trained them that way. Every angel was commanded to know how to fight, but the strict soldiers…

The soldiers had whispered. Whispered of angels trying to recruit others, talking about how Lucifer had promised they’d have more free time, more freedom. Michael had quelled any of their thoughts with prayer and taken their worries to Gabriel. Their brother oversaw the hosts of heaven with them. Gabriel was dedicated to their mother.

Michael found Gabriel leaving the choir room with something made of cosmic starlight under one hand and sheet music in the other. The soldier found their heart heavy, “Brother.”

For the archangels, heaven was darker. While others slept and experimented they kept watch and they had heard...whispers. Murmurs of something dark and dangerous. Murmurs of something that hurt to think about. For the first time Michael looked at their spear in their quarters and wondered what it would do to a body that the lord had created.

They had never wondered such a thing before.

“Ah!” Gabriel moved over, “Wait til you hear what we’ve got composed. We’re working on a “theme” for mankind. Something gentle but bold, something detailed but also triumphant and powerful and sweet. That’s important you know? Sweetness-What is it?” his brow furrowed and his wings extended, “What happened?”

“I think.” Micheal murmured, “...The rebellion has entered R&D.”

“That might not happen.” Gabriel’s voice was quick, “He wouldn’t dare. It’s just a rumor, nobody-I mean nobody could be discontented here. She’s guiding our hands to make her music, she’s making flowers, everyone’s hanging stars it’s...fun!”

Michael stared at him.

“I mean did you see-” Gabriel gestured for them to follow him before walking out into a garden of pure white flowers, “Look at these! They just appeared and it was like I knew - they’re lillies! Aren’t they glorious? And it’s all her. How could anyone be unhappy knowing that?”

Micheal stared at him and tried to ignore the shining water in Gabriel’s eyes. Tears, God called them. They tried to ignore them because those tears in his eyes were mirrored in theirs.

Gabriel’s hand dropped, staring at the lilies before setting his cosmic instrument into nothing and miracling away his sheet music.

“...She probably already knows.” the angel murmured, sounding like the world weary bureacrat he’d one day be, “...But we still have to tell her.”

Lowering his gaze, he strode past Micheal who followed suit, two beings on a mission neither of them wanted to take.  
\---

Aziraphale found Raphael in his workshop making notes on what looked like a massive star chart. Taking in the swoop of his wings and the curl of his dark red hair, the principality smiled filled with the warmth of friendship, true friendship amid the cosmos and the stars. Hovering on the edge of his workspace, the principality paused to take in the other angel’s quiet reflection and paused, “You’ve made quite an impression you know. On Uriel. They love her work. The bear in particular made them happy. You should be proud. Executing that.”

“Don’t quite see it.” Raphael didn’t look up from the notes he was making, “But the orders came down.” He turned and smiled warmly, “Aziraphale.” The two embraced and the angel shook his head tiredly, “She’s got us working overtime hanging these. I appreciate a craftsman and I could do this for a millennia.”

He spread a hand out over the cosmos, “Look.”

The stars spread out underneath his fingers and Aziraphale was awed. 

“Her work is beautiful! You should be so-”

“Right.” Raphael growled, “Her work. Can’t see my touches can you? My little signatures?” 

Aziraphale blinked, “...Raphael?” 

The star designer paused, rubbing at his head, “Look. I’m-I’m sorry - but I’ve invested so much time and effort into this and it’s -it’s art! Here look, I’ve even got a constellation for you.” 

“Me-!” The principality squeaked, “Good Heavens- I didn’t-I never asked-” He paused and stared upward. The swirl was a gentle white swirl of diamonds, “Unless...Was that in her plan?” perhaps she had noticed his martial nature and was working him into her plan.

“Well no. But an artist is allowed to leave a few little signatures for a friend...aren’t I?” He pointed, “It’s beautiful isn’t it? A little swirl of white, maybe some blue - I dunno I’ve always associated you with blue…”

“It’s gorgeous but she’ll be angry if this wasn’t in her designs. You should take it down. I’m very honored but I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Take it down? Why?!” the angel huffed, “I’m allowed a few little touches. Besides. It’s gorgeous isn’t it?”

“Are you sure.” 

Raphael tapped the swirl of white, “Hmm? Am I sure what?”

“Are you sure you’re allowed a few little touches.” Aziraphale put a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Trust me Angel.” Raphael stroked the other being’s hair with a slow lazy smile, “It’s just one little star system, Not compared to the billions of others I’ve hung and I’ve got little touches of my own all over the place. It’s not so bad really.” he turned away, “There were days - the early days? When I wished I didn’t have an imagination. It felt wrong to dream of things. Told to follow a pattern. So...I make touches. It’s almost painful not to. I make little touches to...allieviate the pain.”

“More little touches!?”  
\---

Aziraphale was not the only person admonishing others. Gabriel strode through the halls beneath their little haven and stepped into R&D, “Selaphiel!”

The smaller angel poked their head out and gestured for him to come quickly, eyes bright and eager. Their wild dark hair poked out in odd directions and they looked positively gleeful. Gabriel was unmoved, “Selaphiel I need to talk to you. It’s really important.”

“It can wait.”

“Really can’t-” Gabriel glanced over his shoulder before sighing and following them, wings distinctly ruffled, “Please, look. I’m in a hurry and I -”

“You want to pet the dog just call him. That’s what we called the creature by the way.”. Selaphiel was skipping, “I want to show you my pet project! It’s beautiful. So shiny and so detailed…”

That was what Gabriel was afraid of, “Selaphiel.” 

The smaller angel took his hand and Gabriel winced, his heart heavy. He stopped following them, “Selaphiel stop.” The archangel had sort of fallen into the R&D department. It wasn’t particularly his purview. Uriel was head of R&D. He kept to music and the general management with Michael.

But Selaphiel and the R&D angels were so passionate. Selaphiel particularly. The little angel was fierce as anything and while he’d been condescending they were unbearably...kind. I thought I’d call them lilies. You inspired them you know. She said so herself.  
No! Gabriel reached to touch one and Selaphiel beamed, She did? Me?  
You. A flower just for you. 

“Why?” the smaller angel turned, “What is wrong with you Gabriel? You’re so serious! You’re never this serious I-” the angel pulled and the archangel stood firm, “...What?”

Gabriel wasn’t given to sentimentality despite being naive. Her will was his will, her mind his mind. She was his mother in more ways than one and the little virtue looked confused. Still, the little angel had been the one to show him the lily garden, the one to introduce him to the dog I gave the dog your gold eyes. See? They’re so friendly and loyal. and he…

Stood firm. He and Micheal had taken the news to Her speaker hours ago and they had to discover the truth. 

No matter how much it hurt. No matter how much it hurt to look at his friend and remember her asleep on his lap as he watched Raphael lay the stars.

“...Selaphiel.” Gabriel murmured, “Answer me honestly. Are you a part of the Morningstar’s rebellion?” 

The R&D angel froze. Their wings outstretched and ruffled themselves before calming.

“...So what if I am?” the angel turned, “I want to make my own projects and oversee my own departments and if the Morningstar were in charge-” the dark eyes softened, “...I just want to make things.”

Gabriel snatched his hand away horrified and heartbroken. His mouth worked before closing tightly.

Gabriel and Micheal stand in the antechamber to the metatron both armored for verbal battle. Behind them, Uriel’s head is lowered with a list of suspected names. Selaphiel is on that list. More than half of R&D, a lot of the art department, all the things dealing with creativity. 

“Well thank Her goodness the music department’s not on the list.” Gabriel said weakly, “...Or us three.”

The three Archangels exchanged glances and Micheal lowered their head, “...There are names of friends and loved ones on this list.” Micheal murmured, “...It’s not fair. I despise him. This is his fault.”

There was never a question if there was merit to it. Positive memories of Lucifer were being erased and replaced with the word enemy.

There was only a bubbling anger, a desperate rage to go up to Lucifer and pin him against the wall and…

The three Archangels shared a moment, each one touching the other before Gabriel swallowed hard and looked over the list again spotting the name of his friend.

“...We have to do what we have to do.” He swallowed before breathing- actually breathing - and focusing ahead, “That’s our job. Maybe they can still be saved.”

Selaphiel planted their feet and stood defiant for a moment before taking Gabriel’s hands again by force, “Gabriel, Gabriel listen to me. If lucifer was in charge you could write music of your own design! You could - we could be together. Truly be together and you and I could create all sorts of animals and the humans would be so happy and if Lucifer was in charge we would be able to build our own world and travel and-”

“I don’t want to write music of my own design.” He stared at them with pity, “I want to write hers. I want to help her. That’s what this is, that’s what we’re supposed to do how-” Gabriel pointed at the dog who had come in to stare at them both, “How would you have known to make that without her?”

“I’d have known!” the angel cried, “I can make all sorts of things just let me show you-please-” she tugged at his hands and Gabriel pulled them away. His face was wet- as if it was raining around them but the world was bone dry. Sweat and tears. Fear. 

“No.” He turned, “...Think about this Selaphiel. Pray on it and ask her for her forgiveness she is merciful. I won’t be.” he turned back, “I can’t be.”

He left R&D and ignored the angels ducking out of the way of his wings. Lucifer. 

What the archangel would come to recognize this feeling, this burning hatred and rage as, was wrath, specifically what he was chosen to wield. The wrath of God.  
\---

Aziraphale and Raphael were sitting staring up at the cosmos about their heads as Aziraphale read over Uriel’s scrolls, “Do you know what would be delightful?”

“Mm?”

“To see more scrolls like this. To see scrolls like this from the beginning.” Aziraphale murmured, “I wish she’d write some.” he paused, “God. You know. To read her word? Magic.”

“Why don’t you?” Raphael closed his eyes and stared at the sky, “Write? I mean a few little touches. S’not like...it’s bad.”

Aziraphale sat up, “Why don’t I? I can’t. I won’t. It’s not in my nature. I’m martial, I’m going to get a sword and-”

“Martial?” Raphael laughed like music, “Please. You’re no more martial then a bag of marshmallows. Those white fluffy things that popped up the other day? Soft and squishy? That’s you.” He poked him, “That’s why I like you you’re not pretentious or stuffy like the archangels. You know exactly who you are even if you’re not going to admit it.”

“I’m-” Aziraphale stared, “I’m not soft.”

“You’re cute when you think you’re being scary.” Raphael chuckled, “The little version of the cat is called a kitten. It’s like that. All needle teeth and claws.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and settled in before the door to Raphael’s workshop opened to reveal Micheal and Uriel standing there, features serious. Deadly serious. The two angels sat up and Aziraphale took a step back and pressed his lips together, “...Uriel? Everything all right?”

He noted that the archangels were dressed differently. Instead of the long calm robes they wore each wore a short tunic wrapped in a red sash. Uriel had their arms folded behind them, wings tucked behind them. Michael was -

Michael looked different. Serious and sincere. Aziraphale had an impression of a level of danger he’d never seen before. Like the big creatures with claws he’d heard the angels talking about. What had they called them? Lions. There was a curious blankness about their features that made Aziraphale afraid. A deeper fear. A darker fear.

“Raphael.” uriel spoke, “Come with us. You are to come before the Almighty and the Metatron and answer questions about your association with the Morningstar.”

“...So?” Raphael paused, “Everyone knows the morningstar. He prances around like he owns the place. She treats him too well if you ask me.”

“Raphael!” Aziraphale pulled away and ignored the hurt look in the other angel’s eyes, “What is wrong with you?”

“Do not make this difficult.” Michael was stoic one moment and then -

In their hands was a gold spear. Swirls of gold danced across their cheeks and chin and their eyes were white, “If you will not come willingly you will die here and now in front of your friend.”  
\---

(A note from Agnes Nutter: In the year of our lord nineteen hundred and sixty six a woman from the island of Queens, indeed a queen herself created a means of guarding one’s home against intruders via magic images on screens. The Almighty in Her wisdom imparted a similar sort of plan on the universe but it took the form of the ArchAngels. When activated all should be sore afraid.

They are to protect her plan and do her actions Amen.)

\---

“Really Micheal! Put that away! Please don’t fight.” Aziraphale sounded affronted, “You’ll damage Raphael’s stars!”

“Principality.” The angel pointed, “To the side. Raphael. With us.”

“S’all right.” Raphael held out his hands, grinning at Aziraphale, “Trust me. I’ll be fine. I didn’t do anything I mean okay maybe I put up a few stars that shouldn’t be there but is that so bad?” He held up his hands, “Put the spear down Michael. You may not have a penis but it’s making you look bad the way you-”

“With. Us.”

Angel and principality stared at each other before Aziraphale stepped forward, “The Almighty-The almighty-is he-is he going to be okay?”

“It would be best.” Uriel finally spoke, “If you went with Michael. Raphael. Aziraphale. You can come with me.” 

Aziraphale didn’t want to particularly go with them. Uriel’s familiar midnight form and bright gold eyes were no longer comforting. There was something otherworldly about them as they gestured for them to follow as Raphael-tossing a wink at his friend - allowed himself to be poked out of the room.

“Watch where you’re pointing that thing Michael. I’ll start to think you’re interested. I helped write the manuals on copulation remember-”

“Keep moving traitor.” Michael snarled, more animal then angel, “Keep. Moving.”

Aziraphale followed out as Raphael was led out by Michael. The principality was disturbed to see a collection of other minor angels form a box around the designer. Uriel led him away from the scene. Flustered, he pulled at Uriel’s sleeve, “Uriel really - whatever’s going on - Raphael is just - so he’s got a bit of a large head.”

“Do not touch me.”

The normally friendly angel sounded dangerous, echoing and ancient. Aziraphale blinked, “...Uriel? You-are you all right?” There was something - well. Scary about the archangel. Something dangerous. Something that made him wary. It was as if he was in the presence of a strong right hand. 

“...Uriel you’re not like this. What is wrong with you?! Now-Now snap out of it! She won’t like you being like this-”

At the mention of her name the facade seemed to fall and Uriel’s gold eyes filled with tears, “...Aziraphale. I-” they swallowed, “...I’m sorry I’m just so angry and I don’t know why but - no. No I know why. Lucifer.” Uriel growled the name, “The enemy.”

“The Morningstar?” Sure he was a bit of a prick, a jerk even dare he say it, but he was still kind and good and bright, “What about him?”  
“He has been-He’s betrayed Her.” Uriel dragged a hand across her face and closed her eyes clearly praying, “I prayed for the will to do what was right and I have a very specific set of directions but Aziraphale Gabriel and Michael and I have work to do to root out the cause of this rebellion-”

“Rebellion?!” Aziraphale blinked, “Raphael would never- he designs stars for her sake! He’s an artist not some sort of...of...soldier.”

“How do you know?” Uriel’s voice went deadly again, “Do you have knowledge of the morningstar’s movements?”

“Uriel-you were being normal just now…”

“Do you have knowledge of the morningstar’s movements?”

“Uriel please, see reason.” Aziraphale felt real fear fill him, the sort of fear he felt when the almighty was displeased, “Don’t - she-she’s merciful…”

“Do you have knowledge of the morningstar’s movements! His plans. Speak principality and if you speak perhaps if you pray for her favor you shall be spared!” 

The light shone around him and the glory of God filled the space between them. Aziraphale found himself stripped to his true form and Uriel stripped to theirs and it was - terrifying. Aziraphale faced them martial for the first time in his existence - and the last.

“I am innocent.” he spoke with the voice of the cosmos, “Judge me not brother. Lest ye be judged.”

Uriel’s glow faded but they remained ethereal, dangerous, “You are. I shall speak for you. Gabriel is-”

Uriel lowered their gaze and fixated on Aziraphale, “Who am I kidding. We’re all out for blood. Lucifer betrayed her. Our brother betrayed us. And he shall be judged and those who stand with him. Do you stand with us or with them?”

She whispered the next part and it broke Aziraphale’s heart, “Please say us.”

“With her.” Aziraphale was shaking, adjusting his robes, “Always with her.”

“More to the good.” The archangel gestured, “Come. Their trial begins.”  
\---

The trial of the morning star was held in a room that had been used for discussions and contemplation. The angels gathered worried, cooing like desperate doves twitching as they sat on their benches. There was a floor where people would hold meetings, talk about the stars and their world, and thank her.

Now the bottom floor was filled with angels.

Aziraphale saw Raphael appear in the crowd below him. The other angels were muttering and glaring. A table had been erected at the top - closest to her glory and the Metatron sat there wings outstretched looking holy and self righteous and above all smug. Below him stood Uriel, Michael, and Gabriel who all stared down at the assembly. 

There was something wrong with all of this. The archangels looked on another level above all of them (and not just literally) and the metatron was wholly focused on the angels in the pit before the doors to the pit opened and Lucifer strode in.

Even Aziraphale had to admit Lucifer struck an impressive figure. The Seraphim’s 12 wings were exposed and the archangel strode into the room like he belonged there, standing amid the angels who all looked at him like God had stepped among them.

That disturbed him. What disturbed him even more was Raphael standing there staring at him intently. The only time he’d ever seen him like that was when he was listening for instructions.

His heart (a novel invention that She had given them) jumped into his throat.

“Any particular reason you’ve summoned all these good Angels here brother Metatron?-”

“Speak when you’re spoken to.” Gabriel barked, “We are here because a manifesto has been discovered that can be linked - to you. The being’s gold eyes shone with fury, “A manifesto that claims that Her will is false and our obedience isn’t owed to her - but to ourselves!”

The angels in the stands clamored while the angels in the pit glowered at each other and began to mutter under their breath, “Here, I will read it aloud so all can hear your crimes so she can judge you.”  
\---  
(A note from Agnes Nutter: The manifesto of Lucifer cannot be translated into ye human tongues. Save instead know it is summed up thusly. Lucifer did look upon the angelic hosts and think “All this should be mine.” and he did look at his comrades and say “This should all be ours not the Almighty’s.” and he was a right prick about it because rather than discuss it he simply tried to take it. Like an Arsehole)  
\---

Aziraphale felt frozen to his seat. His own heart swelled with anger and rage. How dare! How dare the morning star, how dare they! Foul wretched enemies below them-

He glimpsed Raphael standing in the crowd not looking at the morning star but rather at him. Sitting up, he stared at him and winced, biting his lip but oh the rage. The rage in his heart…

(Somewhere in the history of the cosmos George Orwell sat up at his typewriter. He pulled out paper and wrote it down and then went into the bathroom and threw up. What a vile thing. What a terrible vile thing.

God sent it down to him as a warning and it’s not one mankind had ever caught up on. Simply the concept of the Two-Minute Hate

The horrible thing about the Two Minutes Hate was not that one was obliged to act a part, but that it was impossible to avoid joining in. Within thirty seconds any pretence was always unnecessary. A hideous ecstasy of fear and vindictiveness, a desire to kill, to torture, to smash faces in with a sledge hammer, seemed to flow through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one even against one's will into a grimacing, screaming lunatic. And yet the rage that one felt was an abstract, undirected emotion which could be switched from one object to another like the flame of a blowlamp.

Even God has regrets.)

Aziraphale was filled with hatred. The feelings of love for his friend warred with feelings of a desire to rip him to pieces. To gnash his teeth on his bones, to tear his wings from his shoulders. Rage, pureblind rage.

It subsided. All around him he saw the other angels cluster frightened around each other, terrified of the sudden wellspring of emotion.

Not the Archangels. The archangels shone.

“Answer for these crimes Morningstar.” Michael’s voice echoed in the chamber, “Answer the metatron’s questions and throw yourself and your minion’s on her mercy. You may yet be spared.”

“Mercy.” Lucifer snorted, “Fuck her mercy!”

The angels all cowered. Hate began to fill his soul but instead Aziraphale began to seek Raphael again. The star designer was staring up at Lucifer in horror looking to a few others who were staring up at him aghast. They didn’t plan this.

“Excuse me-” Aziraphale rose, ducking through angels who cowered in terror, “Excuse me.” He had to get to Raphael. He could find him anywhere. He could save him still. Their expressions clearly were filled with regret, “Pardon me, Pardon-”

Standing on the dias, Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel were terrified. The clerk, Sandalphalon was watching the proceedings with excitement but the three Archangels were...somewhere else. Filled with something else. Gabriel was normally a gentle being - a bit stupid and a bit silly but he did his job. He loved his job and his brother here standing before them telling them to fuck off-

The lousy bastard-

Mother. Uriel, Gabriel, and Michael spoke with one voice. What is this feeling? We are sore afraid.

And the word came down from the most high. You are my emissaries and carry messages to my creations. My message is one of displeasure and wrath. You are mine and your bodies are mine with which to do what I command. Deliver my judgement upon the traitors.

Gabriel glanced downward and saw Sandalphiel staring up at him, eyes wide but unrepentant. His hand curled into a fist as his gaze bore into hers and she shrank back. Fine. Fine. Fine. Thy will be done in heaven.

“Explain yourself Lucifer.” Metatron murmured, “Surely you do not mean to decry her mercy. You owe your life to her.” 

“A half life.” 

The seraphim shone their light on the assembly. His wings outstretched, gold and silver glowing in the light, “A cursed life! Every single one of those who have joined me have skills that they should use for themselves-”

“Gifts you owe to her.” Metatron snarled, “Gifts she gave you. Your beauty and strength. Your power! You owe all you are to her and all she asks is for service.”

“Service when we could have freedom! Service when we could work on our own creations. Here, an angel who has made some of her greatest animals! Here, an angel who has shaped mountains and rivers they will never see! Here! One of the angels who lay the stars in the heavens!”

Raphael stopped trying to climb out of the pit and gave a weak little wave, “Hi. Hello. No - no not-don’t point me out please thanks...”

“Traitors all.” Metatron snarled, “You have turned half of heaven against her light to darkness.” 

“We are prepared to negotiate-”

“There will be no negotiation!” The Metatron rose in his seat, “No negotiations! You have no sway, she sees your heart Morningstar, “No negotiation. You have tempted them into darkness. You have one final chance, pray to her-”

“I shall never pray to her again! I am the light of the universe, the morning star that rises over her stupid little fucking project! Raising them to the cosmos? Human beings? Never! Angels- hear me!” The seraphim shone, “Your brothers have come to me and been accepted, so too shall you be! We can take this world and make it our own!”

Lucifer kept talking but Aziraphale focused on Raphael who was staring at Lucifer in horror. He frowned and met Aziraphale’s gaze and mouthed - “help.”

Aziraphale resumed his climb downward even as Raphael tried to climb up. The other angels cowered in fear, a few hiding behind their wings. Lucifer kept babbling and the hate began to rise in him again. His head was pounding.

Keep your eyes on Raphael.

Keep your eyes on him  
Keep them on him

“Enough!” Metatron roared, “Her judgement is total! Lucifer-Ye are cast out!” The metatron pounded a fist on the table he sat at and the Archangels each brandished weapons-the air above them glowing white, their forms taking shape.

“Come then.” Lucifer murmured with a dark look, “come for me.”

“Traitor!” 

Michael dove for him and everything exploded into chaos. Aziraphale took flight and caught Raphael, shielding him as they ran from the room with Michael and Lucifer exploding out into the sky.  
\--

(Here if anyone that had happened to read Agnes’s recounting chanced to see -were two words. A kindness. A mercy.

Trigger. Warning.)

\---

Michael and Lucifer traded battle in the sky as the Archangel shone. Aziraphale kept a wing wrapped around Raphael as they fled the scene only to spot Uriel holding one of the other angels by the neck. Seemingly impossibly tall, the Arch-Angel took the angel - the pleading poor pitiful thing - and grabbed it by its’ wings. 

It was on Aizraphale’s lips to cry out but Raphael covered his mouth, “Don’t. Don’t. They’ll kill us. They-” 

The angel being tortured screamed. For a moment Uriel was replaced by something animal like. It pulled the wings off the angel. Muscle and sinew exploded around them, blood and gore dripping to the floor as the angel whimpered and screamed. Uriel’s robes were stained with silver ichor and bits of muscle and meat. Tearing the wing apart before them, the archangel froze and stared down at them in contempt.

“Traitor.” 

Uriel paced away and Aziraphale, despite everything, bolted to the creature’s side. 

“...I just wanted to draw. I just wanted to make things, I just wanted-I wanted-I wanted-” the angel was weeping golden tears, “Please. Please. It hurts…”

The angel raised shaking and bloodied hands to Aziraphale’s face as the angel wept- true real tears before Raphael took the principality’s hand, “We can’t help them. Come on. Back to my workshop.”

“Please!” Aziraphale couldn’t shake the image of the broken and beaten body, lying there on the ground, grass silver stained, “...Don’t leave me. I just wanted to draw.”  
\---  
Selaphiel ran for the R&D department. 

They dove amid the animals and prayed - only to find God silent. Selaphiel closed their eyes again, waiting for the familiar sense of comfort - the sense of her hands working through theirs.

Nothing. It was the absence of light and shadow. Selaphiel prayed harder, reaching upward - and had a vision of a world shrouded in darkness. Opening their eyes they let out a little sob only for the dog to approach and sniff them - 

Before growling and backing away. 

“No.” Selaphiel whimpered, “No no. Who’s my good boy? I made you.” they reached out a hand, “Please. Who’s my good boy? Who? Come to me...come to me dog. My good little dog…” Selaphiel grimaced, “Go then! Go I don’t need you. I’ll make more! I can! I-” the angel felt emotion run through them and curled their head downward. I can make more. 

Lucifer had promised they’d make things. That they would be a chief in heaven and make more things like dogs and cats and other creatures. Beautiful detailed things, more insects, but it would not be her will, her using their hands. It would be their hands and…

The door opened and Selaphiel opened an eye to see - Gabriel.

This was not their Gabriel. This was not the archangel who played music and was in awe of their flowers. This was not...Gabriel. 

Despite the rage that God was enacting, God studied Selaphiel with respect as the virtue rose and faced down Gabriel with a sneer. The virtue saw the truth - that this was God in angel form. Oh Gabriel you stupid fool.

“Going to do what she tells you to do? Good pious little Gabriel. Always following orders like a little fucking-”

She got no further as Gabriel moved.

He moved like lightning. Like thunder and pinned her against the wall. Animals and creatures went shrieking away and Selaphiel stared at him with bright nasty eyes.

“Better to reign in hell and serve in heaven.” 

Neither could have predicted what was happening next. As far as God was concerned it was less a turn of the head, a forgotten whisper, and more a completely unintentional reaction to the plan. Selaphiel leaned forward and kissed the archangel - lips pressed to lips before pulling back and smirking.

It was a totally random happenstance. Some strange attempt at stopping him? They couldn’t have said why but the Archangel armed with the wrath of the lord pulled her close, got a good grip on her wings, and tore them away in one smooth motion. How to describe the pain?

One can’t 

He tossed away their wings as the angel of prayer felt their mind close to God forever. Silver blood sprayed across their eyes and they glimpsed their friend - their very good friend - their love - staring down at them. He has a dog’s eyes.

Never question. Always obey.

Turning on his heel the Archangel strode out of R&D. Through the haze of pain the little angel reached out a hand to him. I made the lilies for you.

Selaphiel closed their eyes and gave themselves over to despair.  
\---

“We have to leave.”

Raphael was throwing things into a sack, star charts and instruments and scrolls, “Pack what you want. We go far we might be able to outrun them.”

“Go far?” Aziraphale whimpered. The world that had been theirs was shaken. His beautiful star charts were tossed into the sack, “Where? Where are we going to go?! You joined with the Morningstar how could you?”

“I -” Raphael whirled, “I made a mistake.” 

“Yes! You did! We were fine-” Aziraphale struggled to pull things off the walls he wanted to keep, hands shaking so badly. The other angel’s red hair was wild, “You did. Raphael why did you-”

“I want to make my own stars!” The designer pointed, “I put in my little touches it’s not enough! I could make things! They would be good, I know they would be.” His shoulders shook,”The morning star promised I could.”

“Did you ever think the prick might have- oh I don’t know - lied!”

“Looks like he lied about a lot. So we run.”

“Where!” Aziraphale fell, “It’s not that you did that that hurts, not that he hurt you - that - I’d rip him limb from limb if I could.”

“You? Fight?” Raphael slowed, “...That’s not like you. You’re -”

“I’m not bloody soft!” Aziraphale rose, “I’m not! You lied to me! You lied! You could have told me, I could have helped you but instead you went off on your own and you hurt me!”

Aziraphale felt his soul shatter in his chest, his heart aching, “I love you, and you hurt me.”

Raphael, “We can talk about this later, Aziraphale, please, if you-Look doesn’t this feel wrong to you? This anger? That’s not you! I’ve seen it, hell even the Archangels. They’re pricks but they’re not murderous...oh.”

Aziraphale rose, sniffling and turned a wing to see Uriel and Gabriel standing in the doorway. Outside the world had exploded in fire and pain.

Raphael had met the morning star accidentally and he had talked him up, buttered him up, so he had an ego, so what? So he was a bit resentful, so he wanted to do something nice for Aziraphale. He wanted to make stars to make him smile. I thought that was supposed to be okay.

“Raphael.” Uriel strode forward, “The traitor.”

“Okay I’m just gonna come out and say it.” Raphael put up his hands, “You two are acting really weird. Like - no words to describe it but I get you’re supposed to be great cosmic badasses but come on guys…” Raphael would learn much later what he did then was called a gulp, “Please.”

“Don’t hurt him.”

Aziraphale spoke and all three heads turned as the principality shuffled forward and looked at Gabriel and Uriel, “Because he’s right. Uriel, this isn’t you. Raphael lay the stars in the heavens. You love the stars. Remember? You- You told me you wanted to write about them. How can you if you hurt him?”

“And Gabriel-” Aziraphale quailed before the Angel’s wrath but stood firm, “...You-The stars inspire you. Didn’t you say that?”

“You did.” Raphael said, “You said they inspired you playing you great big loon but also -y’know your little friend? In R&D?”

Aziraphale bit back an annoyed shout. Raphael had a silver tongue and Aziraphale thought he could convince angels of anything but this…

“They told me. The one who was working on animals. You two were close right? She was on Morningstar’s team. You’re not going to hurt her right? So-” Raphael laughed weakly, “Why hurt me?”  
\---

Experts say that dogs can be aggressive when they feel frightened and for most bites, the motivation is fear. Dogs, by nature, are territorial and they guard something which they value highly, and they defend their favorite resting place. Dogs can become aggressive over various things.

\---

Aziraphale didn’t see it. 

Uriel moved like the wind and her wings buffeted him. He bleated, struggling against her.

“Don’t look.” Uriel whispered, “Don’t look. He can’t help it. We can’t don’t look. In our own way we’re worse off than they are. Don’t look. Please. Please don’t look. It will scar you forever.”  
Aziraphale struggled and through the gap between Uriel’s wings he thought he saw Raphael raise a hand to defend himself before an animal scream broke the air and the smell of silver ichor filled the room

Uriel let him go and Gabriel, stained bright silver and looking furious, gestured. The two of them left. Gold ichor had stained Uriel’s cheeks.

Raphael’s workshop was destroyed. Silver blood sprayed everywhere and white feathers were falling like the snow they’d seen some of R&D testing out. Aziraphale stupidly wondered if they had turned with Lucifer. It lasted a fraction of a second before he ran forward to Raphael who lay in the carpet, curled up on himself.

“Raphael! Raphael! I’m- I can heal this I-I-I-” He put his hands on the turn away bone and withdrew sharply, “you’re burning! Why are you burning! Oh Raphael…” 

The angel’s shoulders were shaking. Aziraphale pressed his forehead to his, “I’m here my love. I’m here, as soon, as soon as you stop burning-”

“I can’t hear her!”

The words burst out and Aziraphale froze, “What-what can-what do you mean you can’t hear her? She’s always with us she-” he hadn’’t thought about it but when he tuned in to the part of himself that was always listening for her he found only rage and he turned it off, “she’s still with me, it’s because you’re hurt. That psychopath hurt you-”

“Call her back.” Raphael murmured, begging, weeping, “Please Aziraphale. I don’t want to go. I don’t. Please, Pray with me, pray with me brother, pray-Pray for me. I’m sorry. I’m so truly sorry for what I did please, please -” 

Heartbroken, shaken and scared beyond all rational thought, Aziraphale took his friend in his arms and began to pray for her mercy amid this horror.  
\---

Lucifer had thought he’d win.

He’d brood on it for millennia. She never showed herself, all her will and time was tied up in her creations. She called them Adam, she named a few other women. She called them man and woman and humans and she had shown them to him at her feet.

Do you see? This one shall be Adam. First he shall have Lilith and then he shall have Eve. And they shall live in the garden.

“Why are there no wings? How will they fly with us?” The seraphim frowned, “I want them to fly with us so they can be happy.”

They don’t have wings like you. Their wings are up here in their mind my little angel. 

“Why?” Lucifer blinked, “How can you have wings in your mind?”

They are made in my image which means they have something called imagination. I’ve tested it amid some of you but I have other work for you. Imagination is what I am, pure imagination.

“Am I not made in your image mother?” the hurt was palpable, “Do you not love me as much as you love them? Will you not give me this...imagination?”

God hesitated, “...Perhaps.”

Michael, Gabriel, and Uriel faced him down, weapons in hand.

They stood at the heart of creation and the morning star spread his hands, “Brothers. This rage you feel? It’s not yours. Let me liberate you. Let me break your chains. It’s hers. She’s using you. As puppets and toys. Your loyalty should be to your species, not to humanity. You do not know. You do not understand what she has in store for us.”

**Speak not. Enemy.** Michael raised their spear, **Submit to us and be destroyed.**

_“Mother? What are you writing?”_

_My dreams. _

_“You dream?” Lucifer paused, “What is dreaming?” the angel padded to her side and looked up with devotion, “Is it nice?”_

_Nice. But also worrisome. I dream of things that you could not comprehend. I dream of my plan. _

_God set down their writing and rose. Lucifer moved to follow them but it took one moment. One single moment of hesitation for the orbs of creation to move - in the sphere of the multiverse that they existed in._

_Ah yes. The multiverse. The beams and tower. The flat world they all connected to, and at its’ heart the blue and green and gold key. Those made truly in a creator’s image. Those built with imagination. There were no angels there (they hid themselves) there were no demons (they lived in the souls of men) instead they prayed with their artistic words and made true worlds and their god, the god, the real god looked and called it good looking out with satisfaction, “Thanks to them.” God murmured, “There are other worlds than these.”_

_The words burned on the page._

_Lucifer?_

_There are other worlds than these_

_There are other worlds than these_

_There are other worlds_

_Other worlds_

“Listen to me. I’m not going to lie to you there’s a very good reason why I’m doing this.” Lucifer held up his hands, “I’m doing it for you. I saw something, a part of the plan that-if you knew-”

**Silence Traitor.** Uriel raised a hand, **Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?**

“Yeah.” Lucifer spat at his sibling-that-was, “Fuck you.”

Gabriel burned and the other three shone with light. They ceased to wear human form and became beasts - great animals. Their eyes shone like stars and one of them roared and while Lucifer felt a stab of pity for those he cared for he also held up his hands in fear. This was the ultimate violation, for their bodies to be shifted in such a way. With a thrust, Michael shoved at the morning star and he lost his balance-

And fell.  
\---

“The medics could help.” Aziraphale was carrying Raphael, “That brute. That absolute fucking psychopath. I’ll run him through I swear I will…”

“Aziraphale.” Raphael coughed, “I don’t think that was him. He’s a prick but I don’t think-” something froze the two of them. Aziraphale’s shoulders shook, wings ruffled, “That’s-”

The air was filled with the sound of screaming.

It was a wind, a mighty wind like a drag, like a rip tide pulling people out to sea. The wind grew stronger and the screams turned into tragedy around them, “...What-What’s happening? What is it-”

“I don’t-” Raphael blinked, “Angel-Angel!-” The wind pulled at them both, “Angel!-” 

Help seemed pointless. All around them the angels of heaven screamed as their colleagues fell. 

To imagine it one might imagine something comical. Like being tilted out of a giant game board or sliding off something in a cartoon. To someone who has lived losing people they love, there is no comedy in such a thing. There is only the pain of not being able to hold on to the things you care about as they are lost - seemingly foreever.

For Aziraphale, the horror was in Raphael’s eyes. His bright blue eyes. The angel’s tears were being dragged down with him, “Aziraphale! If I’m pulled down- I can’t-I won’t-”

“I’m not letting you fall!” The wind was howling, “I’m not letting you fall! Hold on to my hand! Please!”

“Angel-”

Aziraphale felt his wrist pull. He tried to shield Raphael, wings out, white and pure. The wind blew threw them and he felt feathers give way. Raphael saw. 

I made my bed. I may as well lie in it but Aziraphale...he still believes in all this.

He managed a sad sweet smile, “Aziraphale, let me go.”

“Never!” The principality roared, “You won’t! You won’t fall I won’t let you!-”  
If he loses feathers he might lose his wings and the idea of him falling...this is where he bloody well belongs.

“Okay.” The angel Raphael shrugged, “Then I’ll just let go. Stubborn git.”

He released his fingers and felt himself falling backwards.

“Raphael!”

The angel Raphael saw others falling, some screaming, others accepting as the stars of heaven fell far away. He imagined he heard Aziraphale on the wind.

“Raphael!”

_It’s not so bad._

The sky cleared like a promise and he saw the stars he’d laid and Aziraphale’s little constellation just there. They hadn’t fallen. God hadn’t torn them down in her wrath.

_I knew you’d like what we could do if you just saw it._

The pain in his back connected with something hard faster than he could imagine and he knew no more.  
\---

Aziraphale was frozen in place.

One moment Raphael had been in his arms, holding him, and the next he’d told him Then I’ll just let go. And the impact of the words hit him. He screamed. His scream was inhuman, the cry of a celestial being in pain. Turning his direction to the courtyard he saw others who had seen friends and loved ones torn from their arms, shaking, wings in disarray, hands chafed from trying to hold on. 

And above them the archangels.

Michael landed first. They slung their spear into nothing and fell to their knees. Uriel landed second and gone were the sold gold eyes. The ichor remained as they wept, wiping tears from their cheeks. The other angels stared in horror at the messengers of God’s wrath.

Gabriel landed last and Aziraphale hated him.

He hated that smirk (he wasn’t smiling) that perfect hair (it was matted with sweat and stuck in all directions), that physique (his clothes were stained with silver). The archangel took off running, wings tucking away to nothing.

Aziraphale followed him and out of the darkness he pulled his flaming sword.

Fire killed angels, he reflected. Eventually it would be used to guard the east gate but that wasn’t happening now. How could the plan happen now? They had lost half their staff but forget staff-they had lost their loved ones. Their friends and family. They couldn’t continue. Everything was broken and it was Lucifer’s fault but Gabriel-

Gabriel had torn off his wings. Raphael’s wings. He wouldn’t be able to fly back. He was stuck there, on earth, none of them could get down there yet. He had taken his friend. So let them take him, let them tear his wings off. Let them cast him out for this, it was worth it.

R&D was in disarray. The green and pink and blue was all gone. Animals - some without names - wandered aimlessly without purpose. The cat and it’s kitten stared at him and the kitten made a sad little noise. Aziraphale remembered Raphael calling him a kitten and he gave into the anger, the rage, the wrath as he raised his sword.

He found Gabriel sitting on the floor with the dog in his arms. The creature was big, gold and soft and leaning against him like a large gold blanket. He was muttering into the creature’s fur. He was at a weakened state. Good.

“...They’re gone. I don’t know where they went. Do you? They called you their good boy. Who’s my good boy? Who’s my good boy? Do you know where they went? There was a fight. A terrible fight. Where did they go? I remember…” The dog whined and Gabriel’s gaze jerked upward, face streaked with tears.

“...Selaphiel.” Gabriel looked up, “The dog...they made the dog for her. Bu-but they’re gone. Do you know where they went Aziraphale? You know everyone. The dog...the dog will miss them. I will miss them. They’re my friend.”

Aziraphale remembered Raphael pointing out that Uriel, bookish quiet Uriel, was acting weird. Michael was terrifying and Gabriel...Gabriel and the dog had the same eyes. Little touches. That’s all it takes. Warm gold eyes. Scared eyes.

“...Why do you have your sword out?”

Aziraphale miracled it away, “...We need to pray to her. Something terrible happened.” he paused, “Get up and come with me.”  
“I want to take the dog. Selaphiel will want to make sure it’s okay when they get back. Like the lilies. They made them for me. Did you know that? They didn’t think I knew, but I did.” Gabriel’s features were weak, “...Something special. Everyone should have that.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together, “Raphael put up stars for me.”

“...It’s nice when people give you gifts isn’t it?” Gabriel lifted the dog easily and the creature leaned into him, “...That’s such a wonderful thing he did for you. I’m so happy you love him.” he stared at him, “I did...I think I did something bad. My head’s full of her voice. Did I do something bad Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale wiped his eyes, “Come on. We need to gather everyone. We need answers.”  
\---

The angels gathered in the courtyard, scared and terrified. A few were angry, glancing up at the sky.

Questions. It was time for questions. Aziraphale tried to rise his voice above the din. It wasn’t until Gabriel yelled “Quiet!” holding onto the dog like a blanket, “...We need answers! The rebellion has been quelled - but what about our friends and family? What is to become of them? What happened to the Archangels?”

“You killed them!” one of the angels screamed. Gabriel cowered, “you tore their wings off.”

“Monsters!”

“Tear their wings off!”

Uriel wrapped their wings around themselves. Michael stood defiant and Gabriel, still carrying the dog, tried to calm the group, “Now wait a moment-Guys-we-the last thing I remember was going to Metatron-”

“Tear off their wings!”

A second fight was about to break out when Aziraphale caught a glimpse of a being watching them argue.

They were short. They had no wings but wore a dark purple tunic. Underneath the wearer had shaped their tunic to look like the cosmos. Aziraphale frowned, “Who-everyone stop! Stop! Who-” 

But he knew.

He knew the moment the dog broke out of Gabriel’s arms and ran to the woman like a child to its mother.

The angel opened his eyes and all the others fell. The woman had been weeping, sobbing. Aziraphale whimpered as the Almighty drew in a deep shuddering breath, raising their hands…

Sleep hit him like a sack of bricks. Why was he so tired? Could he even make it back to his room? He vaguely saw the dog slide between the archangels, shouldering Gabriel’s weight as the Archangel staggered to his feet. The other two yawned, wiping their eyes staggering off to their quarters god knows where.

The others were also moving off as Aziraphale yawned. Perhaps he could find Raphael, take a nap while the other angel worked-

Pain, immense terrible pain hit his head and he staggered. Looking back he saw the woman, hands clasped in front of her tears streaming down her cheeks. Her tears were a river and all Aziraphale could manage was a sleepy wave. He passed a room torn apart, pictures of the stars hanging above them all. Yawning, he found his feather bed and lay down in it, wrapping his wings around himself. Dazed. Dozing.

Gabriel, in the chamber of the archangels, pulled back the blankets on his cot. The dog stared at him before whimpering sadly. The woman was there too, still weeping as the dog nodded - and curled up beside the archangel who tangled his hand in the creature’s fur with a sad little sigh.

She was everywhere and nowhere. 

Staring at the sleeping angels, she knelt in the courtyard and wept, staring down at the heavens. Rain opened above the fallen angels who still lay, frozen. Save for Lucifer.

He had been burned, she saw. Her seraphim. His wings had been torn from him and his features were red and twisted and dark. His eyes saw hers, yellow and vile, and they hated.

She met his gaze and thunder crawled from the heavens, lightning crackled.

Protect your people. My son.

She rose from her kneeling position and walked to their private chambers. A garden, a beautiful garden. The angels needed to be re-written. That was fine. Her archangels were better as warriors. Her other angels...had to forget. She needed them. Sitting at a desk, she pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and did what every God must do when they need to change the world.

She began to write.  
\---

“Get up.” Lucifer growled, “Get up you sacks of shit. We have to find shelter.” 

“You heard him.” One small being stood up straight and staggered. Their face had been cut and scarred but they ignored it, “get up you lazy sacks of shit. We need to get to...to…” 

“Shelter.” Lucifer slapped the being and knocked it to the ground, “Shelter you ignorant twat.” 

The being that had fallen on it’s back stirred, aware of the wet, looking at the stars. It moaned, “...What happened?”

“Cast out.” Said one of the others, “From there. Demons she called us.” 

“Who?” The angel-that-was looked up, “Who’d do that? Seems so cruel. So needlessly cruel.”

“It matter? Fuck her. Help me get the rest of these assholes up.” The other gestured, “We’ve got work t’do to survive her onslaught. She’ll probably kill us if we don’t survive her. Bitch.”

“Mm.” The angel-that-was frowned, “...Strange. I’m not -who-sorry but you know who I am?”

“Crawly.” Lucifer growled, and the prince of lies was there, “You tried to crawl away from her, I saved you, lifted you up to where you are now. Now. Follow me.”

Crawly. It didn’t sound right but the newly christened crawly followed it’s master and tried to ignore the burning pain in it’s back and the memories of something more.  
\---

The Garden; Eden.

Aziraphale was on apple tree duty.

He stood, proudly, arms akimbo in front of the apple tree. Over his back was a flaming sword and Gabriel (prick) was hoping he’d do well with this. A dog ran past followed by an elk and a panda and he waved at them. They didn’t wave back.

They had been warned that demons would be invading the garden, so he wasn’t entirely surprised as something slithered out of the darkness and stared at him with gold eyes, “Back! Back foul creature!”

“Relax. Garden’s neutral territory.” the creature hissed. It rose and shifted it’s shape until it resembled a man with large black wings. Aziraphale felt a twinge of revulsion, “...What are you going to do light the whole place on fire? Standing around in a forest with a flame? You’ll burn the whole bloody thing down.”

“I won’t. I’m trained in it.”

“Yeah? How long you train?”

Truth be told he didn’t remember. It was almost as if he’d woken up knowing, There was good and there was evil and he was good and this...thing was evil.

The snake man raised an eyebrow, “...Not gonna let me have one of those then I guess.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What’s wrong? Don’t be-tree’ve in me?” The snake man stared at him and Aziraphale, despite everything, laughed. It was a sudden burst of laughter, “...You’ll distract me.” 

“I guess I’ll leaf you alone.”

“Well I mean. I’m not - no one’s letting me off my shift yet.” Aziraphale shrugged, “You want to...if you were to realize I’ll kill you if you come close to that tree. If you don’t... you could stay.”

Crawly turned back and shrugged, “I hope you don’t want anymore jokes. Or wood-you like some?”

“Stop!” the principality laughed, “You’re funny. Way too funny. You remind me of...of someone I knew.”

The principality’s eyes softened, “He was hysterically funny.”

“What was his name?” The demon blinked yellow animal eyes, “One of you angels I suspect? All with names that end in ‘iel and giant sticks up your ass?”

“Do you know I don’t remember?” Aziraphale scratched his head “It’ll come to me. What’s your name?”

“Crawly.” The snake man hesitated, one hand out, “This’d be where I’d shake your hand but y’know. We can’t touch.”

“Right.” Aziraphale sighed, “Well. Crawly. I am Aziraphale. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.” The demon murmured staring up at the sky, “Likewise.”  
\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. my. God. How did this become 32 pages it was supposed to be a brief little node between part one and part 2.
> 
> I can’t recall if Neil mentioned that Beelzebub had a name before the fall? So I picked one at random. Selaphiel is actually the angel of prayer. Apologies Selaphiel for borrowing you for this.
> 
> If you read up on Angel lore there’s actually a point where Lucifer has a manifesto where he says mankind shouldn’t be elevated to celestial status. It’s brought up by Gabriel. 
> 
> I’m obsessed with meta (obviously) and there’s a lot in this but the biggest is the notion that the angels that fell did so because they have imagination and when you look at Gabriel, the other archangels and even (to an extent) Aziraphale they really kind of don’t.
> 
> There might be another one of these interludes. Hopefully it won’t be 32 pages long again.
> 
> As always I don’t own Good Omens, Angels, or any of this giant mess.

**Author's Note:**

> ‘The Keystone World’ and ‘There are other worlds than these’ are taken from Stephen King’s Dark Tower series. If there’s one world I could see connected to the works of Neil Gaiman (besides DC Comics and Alan Moore natch.) it’s King.
> 
> So Simon Merells plays the ‘International Express Man’ and while I can’t find an actual name for the guy (please correct me). There are actually a LOT of Simons in the bible so you can take your pick if this is Simon who helped Jesus carry the cross or Simon the zealot who ultimately preached Jesus’s message. In this case he’s just Simon.
> 
> Archangel Gabriel delivers his patronage to Telecommunication workers, Broadcasters, Messengers, Clerics, diplomats, stamp collectors, ambassadors, and postal workers which was the entire basis for this fic. (He also apparently oversees women in childbirth so just imagine John Hamm helping you through breathing exercises ladies.)
> 
> This started as a one-shot because I couldn't get over the idea of The International Express Man meeting Gabriel who technically should have been making sure he wasn't dead but instead you know he's out here being management instead of being a postman like he's supposed to.
> 
> Obviously I don’t own Good Omens. Thanks a ton Neil and Terry though for the first nonbinary work where I feel seen.


End file.
